it's a mad, mad world
feeling down, feeling here, like a pin-pricked, sicked flick
watch the stars roll by in their pensive dance
listen to the stapler - click, click, click
watch the stars roll by in their pensive dance
No! Yes! What? Truth is never as clear as
the thousandth star in your eye
it's always
sick, sick, sick
enough to wretch a man into disanity
all this, and more until we sit by the fire
and eat things of this world and the next
wheel in time keeps on tuhuhning
don't speak, care, live and matter but things are possible,
much possible, too possible
the bard is as much here and there, behind me and before me
this is crazy - world, surface, now and whenever that was